Silence Breaking (Storm and Silence Saga Book 4)

by Robert Thier

  Adaira, who had been watching the whole discussion with dark, thoughtful eyes, now too extended her hand.

  ‘Welcome, Miss Linton. If you’re anything like your brother, I already know I’m going to like you.’

  ‘Oh, trust me, the two of us are very much alike.’

  She frowned, glancing around. ‘Where is your brother, by the way?’

  ‘Oh, he had to take care of something. Don’t worry. He’ll be back.’

  The two ladies lapsed into silence for a while, concentrating on that ladylike art of not speaking with your mouth full which I had never entirely mastered. Mr Ambrose took the opportunity to lean over towards me and hiss, in a voice hardly audible over the clatter of knives and forks: ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Whatever do you mean?’ I blinked up at him in the manner of the perfectly innocent little maiden. ‘I’ve been here all along.’

  Lightning flashed in his storm-coloured eyes. ‘What are you doing here…like that?’

  ‘Eating breakfast, you mean?’

  ‘Mr Linton, I-!’

  ‘Say, Miss Linton,’ the marchioness said, unaware that she was interrupting, ‘I didn’t hear your carriage arrive. Did you arrive on horseback, in this cold weather?’

  ‘Oh no.’ I gave her a bright smile. ‘I walked.’

  The eyes of the two women went wide. ‘Walked?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ My smile widening, I gestured out over the white wasteland, stretching as far as the eye could see beyond the windows of the winter garden. ‘A nice little walk is just the thing to warm one up, isn’t it?’

  Under the table, Mr Ambrose stomped on my foot. Or at least he tried to. I was prepared now, evaded him easily and kicked right back. This was fun!

  ‘Um…Miss Linton?’ The marchioness regarded me with a mixture of awe and doubt. In the eyes of her young daughter, however, I could see the beginning glimmers of hero worship. ‘Where exactly do you live?’

  I reached for a piece of toast and started to butter it. ‘London. Why?’

  ‘Um…nothing.’ She regarded me, then her son, and the way he was still leaning towards me. Immediately, Mr Ambrose jerked back into a ramrod straight position. ‘Where exactly do you know my son from, Miss Linton? Through your brother?’

  ‘No.’ I glanced at Mr Ambrose out of the corner of my eyes and sent him a brief smile that made him sit even straighter. ‘I was fortunate enough to be at a ball at Lady Metcalf’s one evening, when your son arrived and demanded my hand for the next dance.’

  ‘Demanded?’

  ‘Oh yes. I declined at first, but he insisted.’

  Adaira’s eyes went wide. ‘You said no to my brother?’

  ‘Oh yes.’

  Her eyes gleamed - definitely hero worship!

  ‘But he simply wouldn’t give up so, in the end…’ I shrugged. ‘I gave him a chance. It would have been a bit cruel, letting him beg.’

  ‘He was that interested, was he?’ Lady Samantha’s eyes gleamed as they gazed at me. I knew that expression. It was the same my aunt had on her face every time she caught sight of an eligible bachelor. She beamed. ‘You know, I’m really so very glad you came, Miss Linton! You must stay for the whole holiday season.’

  ‘Could I really? Oh, I would be delighted.’

  Under the table, Mr Ambrose’s foot found mine, and pressed down, hard. Out of the corner of his mouth, he growled, too low for anybody else to hear: ‘You will pay for this later.’

  ‘Will I?’ I batted my eyelashes up at him. ‘In pounds sterling?’

  Quick as a flash, so quick that even the eagle’s eye of a mother could not detect it, his hand darted under the table and took hold of my thigh possessively. His fingers were like iron vices wrapped in velvet. ‘Oh no. I had another currency in mind.’

  The marchioness cleared her throat. ‘You know, Adaira…I think I forgot something up in my room.’

  ‘Really, Mother? What?’

  ‘I can’t remember what exactly, but it’s something really, really important.’ Rising swiftly to her feet, she started backing towards the door, her eyes never leaving me and Mr Ambrose. ‘Yes, really, really important. I hope you don’t mind, Miss Linton. I’ll just have to leave you alone with my son here for a little bit, while I go fetch…whatever it is I have to fetch.’

  ‘Well, you go and get it, then,’ Adaira told her mother, not moving an inch. She was watching me and Mr Ambrose, too, with quite a lot of interest gleaming in her eyes. ‘I’ll stay here.’

  ‘But, Adaira, my dear, I think I need you to come with me. I might need help carrying the…the…’

  ‘…the thing that you have to fetch but can’t remember at the moment?’

  ‘Exactly! I seem to remember it is very heavy.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry.’ Adaira gave her mother a bright smile and slid closer to Mr Ambrose and me. ‘I distinctly remember you telling me earlier it is very light. Very light indeed. Besides, I think I’d really like to stay here. I have a feeling the conversation is going to get interesting.’

  ‘Still, I’ll need you. I…I…might need your help remembering the thing I have to fetch that I can’t remember right now.’

  ‘Don’t worry. If I remember I’ll send a servant with a note.’

  ‘Adaira Louise Jannet Melanie Georgette Ambrose, get to your feet and come with me right now!’

  ‘All right, all right…’ With a sigh of disappointment that would have melted any heart but that of a mother, Adaira got to her feet and let herself be dragged out of the room, leaving Mr Ambrose and me alone on the winter garden bench.

  Silence reigned when the door had closed behind mother and daughter. Long, cold, intense silence. Dark, sea-coloured eyes bored into me, wandering up and down my figure, taking in my female attire.

  ‘What are you playing at, Mr Linton?’

  I raised an eyebrow. ‘I told you before, Sir - I’m not playing. Not anymore.’

  ‘You made it sound like…like the two of us were…’

  ‘Yes?’

  He opened his mouth - and pounced on me. One moment he was sitting there, fighting with his words, the next, he pulled me towards him and his lips claimed mine, fighting another battle and winning fast. A groan rose from his chest. For a moment, I melted into him - then my hands gripped his shoulders, and I pushed hard, sending him flying backwards. He hit the padded bench with a thunk.

  ‘I’m not playing,’ I repeated, my eyes ablaze as I gazed down at him. ‘We’ve sailed the seas together, hunted outlaws in the desert, hacked our way through the South American jungle and always, always we’ve had each other’s back! I’m not going to stand by while your mother plans your married life, and you’re snatched up by some good-for-nothing ninny of a girl. Not while I still have breath in my body!’

  And then I leant down to claim his mouth again and demonstrate that yes, indeed, I did still have breath in my body. Quite a lot of it. And I knew how to use it, too.

  ‘Don’t you think I know what my mother is up to?’ he breathed against my mouth. ‘I have won victories over kings, queens and sultans! I’m not about to succumb to the matchmaking plans of my mother.’

  ‘I don’t care!’ Reaching down, I gripped his face fiercely, refusing to let go. ‘I refuse to pretend anymore! There’s something between us. I don’t know what it is, and I don’t know what will come of it, but it’s there, and I want it. I want you.’

  I saw the ripple in his eyes, like a wave in the Arctic Ocean, causing an iceberg to crack.

  ‘Lillian, I…’

  He suddenly broke off, and a moment later, I knew why. Footsteps could be heard from outside, fast approaching.

  ‘Up!’ he hissed, and moved. In a wink, we were sitting upright. A shove from him, and suddenly I was sitting at a respectable distance. I was just reaching up to try and finger-comb the wild tangles of my hair, when the door of the winter garden burst open and Adaira stormed in.

  ‘They’re here!’ she crowed, dancing around, too excited
to even glance at us - thank God! ‘They’re coming!’

  ‘Wh-who?

  ‘The first guests of course! Come and see!’ And she was outside again, rushing down the corridor. Slowly I managed to get my trembling knees under control and rose to follow. Behind me, I could hear Mr Ambrose do the same. I didn’t look back. I didn’t speak. I didn’t dare just yet. Unspoken words hung in the air between us, heavy with the power to crush my heart, or make it soar.

  What had he been about to say before his sister had burst in?

  Damn those guests! If it’s pretty little Lady Caroline Elaine Sambridge, I am going to skewer her with my parasol!

  Luckily, I still had the one I had purchased earlier with me. And it seemed to have a pretty sharp tip.

  I caught up with Adaira just before she reached the big arched windows next to the front door. Stretching up on my tiptoes, I peeked over her shoulder. Behind me, I could feel Mr Ambrose approaching.

  ‘Who is it?’ I demanded.

  All I could see was a coach rolling down the driveway. There was no coat of arms on the door, no emblem of any kind. Either whoever was in there was not of noble blood, or it was a rented coach.

  Please let it be a nobody! Someone thoroughly ineligible, unmarriageable, and if possible, male, old and ugly!

  ‘Well? Who is it? Who is coming?’

  ‘I don’t know yet! Come! Let’s go and greet them!’

  I took a tighter grip on my parasol. ‘Yes…that might not be a bad idea.’

  Behind me, Mr Ambrose’s hand shot out and plucked the parasol from my fingers. I only had time for a brief glare before Adaira flung open the door. Lady Samantha appeared beside us, not tall at all, but nevertheless as regal as any queen, her blue eyes shining with warmth and welcome.

  Please don’t let it be the first load of ladies! The thought repeated in my head over and over, a fervent prayer. Please! Let it be anybody, anything else!

  Which just goes to show - you should be careful what you wish for.

  The coach slowed, rolling in a circle around the frozen fountain until it came to a halt in front of the portico. I could see figures shifting inside, and breathed a sigh of relief. These were not ladies - unless young ladies had, in time since I’d last checked, developed big, broad shoulders, beards and a penchant for red and golden uniforms.

  We were standing on the portico steps and watched as the first of the men climbed out of the coach. The marchioness stepped forward, a broad smile on her face.

  ‘Welcome, gentlemen. Welcome to Battlewood. I am Samantha Genevieve Ambrose, The Marchioness Ambrose.’

  ‘A pleasure, Your Ladyship.’ The foremost of the officers, whose big bulk hid most of the others, made a deep bow that nearly toppled him over. ‘May I say how much I and my comrades in arms appreciate your kind invitation?’

  ‘Oh, you’re very kind, Major…?’

  ‘Strickland, Your Ladyship. Major Anthony Strickland. May I introduce my fellow officers?’

  ‘By all means do so.’

  With a smile on his plump face, the major stepped far enough aside to allow a semi-free view of his subordinates. ‘This is Lieutenant Woodard. Here we have Lieutenants Hartley, Cooley, and McGraw. And…hey, come out, what are you waiting for?’

  ‘Coming, Sir!’

  The voice from inside the coach was like a bucket of ice water in the face. For an instant, I thought my heart had stopped. A moment later, a familiar head of mahogany curls appeared from the coach. My breath caught, and I felt Mr Ambrose’s cool gaze bore into me.

  ‘Here’s my right hand, the golden boy of our regiment, and the ladies’ favourite - Captain James Carter!’

  Opposing Armies

  ‘A pleasure to make your acquaintance,’ Captain James Carter said, unfolding himself from the coach and bowing deeply to our little group. ‘A true plea-’

  Then he noticed me.

  His mouth dropped open, and he stared at me unblinkingly.

  If Mr Ambrose’s eyes had been burning into me with icy cold before, it was nothing compared to what they did now. My ears started to heat. Why the heck were my ears turning red? I had done nothing wrong!

  Right?

  ‘What’s the matter, Carter?’ The major chuckled. ‘Stunned by the ladies’ charms, are you?’

  ‘No. Well…yes, Sir. Of course. But it’s not just that.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I just noticed that I am already acquainted with one of the ladies.’ And, right there, under the icy gaze of Mr Rikkard Ambrose, he stepped forward, bent over my hand, and pressed a kiss on its back.

  Now it wasn’t just Rikkard Ambrose who was boring holes into me with his gaze. I could feel the stares of Lady Adaira, Major Strickland and Lieutenants Woodard, Hartley, Cooley, and McWhat’s-his-name on me equally intense, if not nearly as frigid. Only Lady Samantha, I noticed, wasn’t watching me. She was watching her son watching me with considerable interest.

  ‘Delighted to see you again, Miss Linton.’ Captain Carter’s words tore me from my thoughts. ‘I’ve thought of you often since last we met, and I wondered when luck would grant me the chance of renewing our acquaintance.’

  Yes, I’d been wondering that, too. And wasn’t it just my kind of luck that now and here, in the company of Rikkard Ambrose and his entire family, was the moment it had to happen?

  ‘How do you do, Your Ladyship.’ Captain Carter repeated the hand kiss with Mr Ambrose’s mother - not a wise move. It suddenly grew even colder outside. If looks could kill, Captain James Carter would be nothing but a skeleton frozen forever in a giant cube of ice. ‘Such a pleasure to make your acquaintance. And these lovely people are your family, I presume?’

  ‘My son, Rikkard, and my daughter, Adaira Louise.’

  ‘Charmed.’ Once again, he reached for a hand to kiss - that of Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s little sister.

  Oh God. You’re dead. So absolutely, one hundred per cent dead. R.I.P. Captain James Carter.

  Miraculously, he was not killed on the spot. Instead, he reached out and took the hand of Rikkard Ambrose. For one horrible, horrendous moment I thought he was going to kiss it, too - then his fingers squeezed in a handshake.

  ‘Such a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr Ambro-’

  That was the moment when Mr Ambrose started to squeeze back.

  ‘Nng!’

  ‘Yes.’ Mr Ambrose’s voice was a soft arctic wind, promising the coming blizzard. ‘Such a pleasure. I’ve snatched glimpses of you from afar, Captain, and have taken the liberty of following your career and interesting exploits. I look forward to our getting to know each other better.’

  Never had a death-threat been worded in so gentlemanly a manner.

  ‘Mmmh. Rrrg.’ Captain Carter swallowed and squeezed back, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. ‘You…have quite a grip, Mr Ambrose.’

  ‘Yes. On everything.’

  Abruptly, he let go of Carter’s hand, and the captain pulled it back, clearly working hard to resist the urge to cradle it against his chest. Mr Ambrose’s gaze swept over the captain’s colleagues.

  ‘Greetings, gentlemen. Welcome to my father’s home.’ And he extended his hand.

  The officers took an instinctive step backwards.

  ‘This,’ Adaira whispered in my ear, her eyes gleaming, ‘is getting exciting! I never dreamt a Christmas ball would be this much fun.’

  The marchioness intervened then, taking the major by the arm with one of those motherly smiles of hers and ushering everyone out of the cold, into the toasty warm hall. She engaged the military men in conversation, enquiring what they thought of their winter quarters, and how the reception of the country to their arrival had been so far. I tried to join the conversation. I tried to engage the captain and his friends in small talk, smile and be polite - while from behind me, Mr Rikkard Ambrose was deep-freezing the back of my head. Captain Carter, however, who was still nursing his hand with a bemused expression on his face, seemed to be blissfully ignorant of the tension in the air. He gave me
a bright smile.

  ‘I still remember the last time we danced together. At Lady Abercrombie’s, wasn’t it? You looked so beautiful that night.’

  Ice crystals started building on my neck. I manufactured a smile. ‘Really? I’m sure I didn’t. You were probably thinking of someone else.’

  Please say you were thinking of someone else! Please! I don’t want you to end up deep-frozen.

  ‘Oh no, I remember you distinctly.’

  Crap!

  ‘You were the most beautiful lady at the ball. Simply resplendent.’ Taking my hands, he half-turned towards me and gazed down at me in a manner that could not be misinterpreted. Crap, crap, crap! ‘There was no other who could compete with you. Why do you think I danced with you twice in a row?’

  The ice crystals on my neck were quickly getting ambitious and developing into icicles. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I replied with a sort of suicidal levity. ‘Pity? Insanity? Lack of options?’

  Suddenly looking unusually serious, he squeezed my hands.

  ‘It was none of those things, Miss Linton,’ he whispered. ‘I might have thought so, once - but not any longer. I’ve thought a lot about you during these last few months.’

  Oh dear Lord…

  ‘Captain Carter—’

  ‘Sh. Don’t say anything now. It’s not the time or the place. But I think that, when you have a moment, it is time for us to have a little private talk,’ he told me, too softly for anyone else to hear.

  The problem was: Mr Rikkard Ambrose wasn’t just anyone.

  Swallowing, I felt his ice-cold gaze burn into me from behind, cutting a path to my very soul.

  I made myself smile up at Captain Carter. ‘I…look forward to it.’

  *~*~**~*~*

  I just want to make one thing clear from the start: I was not afraid of Captain Carter. Not of him, and not of what he might have to say to me. Fear had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that, having made my excuses, I ran as fast as my hoop skirt would allow back towards my room and changed into blessedly male protective gear.

  It was just more comfortable, clear?